


Ungranted

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pre-White House (West Wing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "He always said just as long as the baby was healthy.  Guess that's one wish left ungranted."





	Ungranted

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Ungranted**  
**by:** Kasey

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Category(s):** Pastfic, massive angst, Abbey PoV, Jed/Abbey  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em, no real spoilers.  
**Summary:** "He always said just as long as the baby was healthy. Guess that's one wish left ungranted." 

Very few people can probably imagine what this is like for me. Lord knows I never did - watching relatives of patients sit at their bedsides with that look on their face of "Why couldn't it be me lying there instead of them?"...I mean I felt compassion for them, sympathy to be sure, but... 

...I had no idea what this felt like. 

It's just inconceivable - you bring your child in because you think he has pneumonia or bronchitis but it's not getting better and it turns out that it's neither of those things, but instead it's cardiomyopathy and it's to the advanced point where just keeping him quiet and not letting him eat potato chips and french fries won't do the trick. He'll probably die, they tell you, unless he gets a transplant and even then it'll be risky. 

It's inconceivable - how can this child that you bore from your own womb be so sick? And so young? And better yet - how can there not be more answers than this? You know the amount of things one learns at med school, you know them first hand because you went and you got your degree so you could help people. 

So why can't anyone help you? 

He's six years old. He's...he's a little boy who loves to read and gets along great with his sisters - he makes them laugh more than he makes them angry so they don't fight too much, which is always a good thing in my book. And Lizzie's old enough to know something's wrong with him - she's nine now, she was seven when he was diagnosed, she has a very, VERY basic level of what's going on. Namely: She knows something's wrong with JJ's heart that they don't know if they can fix. 

At times I think he understands it better than I do. He doesn't even question why he can't go out and play soccer with his friends, he doesn't have to ask me why it's so hard for him to go up the steps anymore - I explained it to him in the beginning. And I guess...I guess when you're face-to-face with your limitations, you learn them pretty quickly and don't ask why. Even if you're a kid. 

...He's still a kid. And, at this rate, he'll never be an adult. There's too many people and not enough hearts, especially not enough children's hearts - I mean the heart ages at the same rate as the person it's transplanted into, but he has a child-sized ribcage and a child-sized space between his lungs. 

I used to think that was a good thing, not enough children's hearts. It meant not as many kids were dying, it meant not as many mothers would have to mourn the losses of their babies... 

It's hard to think that way when it's YOUR baby that you're about to lose. When it's not a theoretical and distant prospect, when it's not some name on the board, when it's your SON and you can't understand- 

...And you can't understand how God can be so cruel. 

Jed's in the chapel right now, probably cursing in Latin because that's what he does when he's pissed at the world for all that's gone on. 

And I meanwhile sit here in the most uncomfortable plastic chair ever created, watching our son sleep in a hospital bed and wondering he'll see another day, or if his poor overworked, oversized heart'll give out before then. 

He's just gotten so much worse lately, he-...he could barely get out of bed and I was hoping that maybe there would be something over in the Cardiac Care Unit that would help him, that I hadn't heard of yet because I don't hear everything that goes on in every department. 

Jed's taking this, just maybe, harder than I am. He wanted a son...of course he did, of course he wanted a son, all men want sons. He claims he didn't care, he always... 

...He always said just as long as the baby was healthy. 

Guess that's one wish left ungranted. 

...He's so scrawny-looking. Always has been, just...spindly legs and arms. So adorable, so funny... 

...So young...And with such a good - I almost said with such a good heart, but obviously not. Obviously he has a crummy heart and that's why all this is happening, but he...he has such a good soul. He's never been mean or bitter about not being able to run around with his buddies or chase girls around the playground, nor has he ever been withdrawn or even seemed sickly in spirit. 

But for his damn heart and he could've gone on to great things... 

Oh, God, why have you forsaken us? 


End file.
